


How about you, cutie?

by therosystarling



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Crushes, Fluff, M/M, Reddie, obviously bad words are here, slight nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-28 15:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14451903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therosystarling/pseuds/therosystarling
Summary: A motorcycle. A stupid motorcycle. Had Richie even expressed wanting a motorcycle? Why the hell would Richie’s parents give Richie death on two wheels for his birthday?





	How about you, cutie?

The Losers gang, sans Richie, stood outside the school on a particularly warm Friday morning for Derry in Spring, mindlessly chatting to one another about where their resident Trashmouth could be. It had been since last Friday right after Richie's birthday when they had seen him last, and Richie had simply said for his big seventeenth that his parents were letting him skip school and 'let loose' away from home, but was in the dark about where they were taking him for days on end to celebrate.

“Maybe they let him out on the side of the road. Out to roam free,” Stan chuckled. “His parents are probably sipping mojitos on a cruise right now while he roughs it in the woods by the interstate.”

“W-what if he went to V-Vegas? Got married? I-I-I can see Richie getting d-drunk off his ass and m-m-marrying a showgirl,” Bill offered.

“Oh, please. They probably tried to take him to Canada, but had to quarantine him,” Eddie chimed in. “God only knows when he got his shots last.”

“You guys are so mean,” Bev retorted. “Besides, we all know they killed him and got an upgrade. Haven’t any of you ever seen the _Stepford Wives?_ ” The group broke into fits of laughter, silenced by the sound of a distant motor that was approaching closer. Eddie was the first one to peer in the direction the noise was coming from.

“The fuck is that?”

The rest of the group turned to where Eddie was looking. Ben squinted, shielding his eyes from the sun breaking through the clouds. “Is that...a motorcycle?”

Mike nodded as it came closer into view. “Who the hell has a motorcycle?”

Bev suddenly gasped, grabbing both Ben and Bill’s sleeves. “No. _**Way.**_ ”

“No way what?” Eddie was still looking at the approaching bike. “Who is...no. You don’t think. No. Are you fucking kidding me?”

The group, plus the the students and faculty that where still mingling outside all seemed to still as the motorcycle pulled into the parking lot. The engine died down, the noise cut completely. Eddie could feel himself holding his breath as the operator pulled their helmet off. A mass of dark hair sprang out from underneath it. Eddie felt the breath wheeze out of him almost painfully. “You **cannot** be serious,” he whispered, mostly to himself. The rest of the group all grinned, and Bev was the first to yell.

“Tozier! Holy _shit!_ ” They took off to the bike where Richie was still parked, Eddie trailing behind them. “She’s a beaut,” Bev said as they got to it, running a hand over the handle bars.

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” Eddie’s repeated question went unnoticed as the group whistled and fawned over Richie’s bike.

“Where’d you get her? She’s gorgeous,” Ben cooed, eyeing the bike.

“Connecticut,” Richie answered. “My uncle lives there. She was my surprise! Got me a bike for my birthday. And my dad’s old leather jacket, all fixed up.” He put his arms out as if to model it. “So who wants a ride first? What about you, cutie?” His eyes rested on Eddie, who still had a look of complete disbelief on him.

“What the hell are on your legs?”

”...Jeans, dude.”

“They’re...so... _tight._ ” Eddie knew he’d probably pay for using that phrase, but there was no other way to describe the black denim that looked practically painted on Richie. Richie shrugged him off.

“Just wanted to try something new.” He got off the the bike, and Eddie couldn’t help but stare. Richie was dressed like he just walked out of a glorified GAP ad-black leather jacket, clean and shiny, with a simple white t-shirt underneath, paired with those jeans and a pair of black boots Eddie had seen Richie wear maybe twice before. His hair was wild, having been pressed down by the helmet, and him running a hand through it to try and fix it was not a motion that was being kind to Eddie’s brain right now. He flicked his eyes away from Richie, trying to rest them anywhere else. It was Bev, bless her, that broke Eddie’s uneasiness.

“Uh, excuse me, but ladies first, Richie. I get first dibs riding.”

“Mmm, but I haven't known you the longest. I think the person I’ve known the longest should get the first go.”

Mike gave a glance at Bill, Stan, and Eddie. “And God help all of you, if he rides like he walks.”

“Hey! I only fell over my feet like...four times this month. Way better than February!”

Ben clapped Stan and Bill on the back and faced Eddie. “Yep. You three are doomed. Mike? Bev? Shall we let them hash it out?” The three laughed and walked away, making their way to the school entrance.

“I am _not_ getting on that thing,” Eddie muttered, looking at it. “They’re death traps. This guy my cousin Ellen knows, he was riding one, right? And he-”

“Is this the ‘beheaded by a truck bed’ story again? Or is this the ‘alligator pops through the manhole and bit off a leg’ one?”

“I don’t know, Rich. Eddie’s got a point. I’m not sure if I’d feel comfortable on this until you-I don’t know. Ride it longer than a day.” Stan looked at Bill. “All yours, bud.”

“N-n-no thanks. I agree with y-y-y-ou. S-s-sorry Rich. Maybe next month? A-af-after some p-practice?”

“Oh, come on! First off, I’ve been riding this for _four_ days, thank you. Second, where’s your sense of adventure?”

Stan crossed his arms. “Where’s your license for this thing?”

“Oh, pfffffttt. _License._ What are you gonna do, call the cops on me?”

“I have a quarter for the payphone,” Eddie offered Stan with a grin.

“You **wouldn’t,** ” Richie shrieked, placing his hand dramatically on his chest. “Please, sir! You wouldn’t take ‘er away from me, would ya? I promise to get ‘er mine for good an’ true, I will, I will!”

“Oh, my God. Stop with the accent. You sound like that orphan boy _Oliver_ getting strangled.” Eddie hiked his book bag up higher. “Are you coming in, or you too cool for us now, _Knight Rider?_ ”

“Holy shit, Eds. _Knight Rider_ was about a self-aware talking car, not a motorcycle. And the guy’s name was Michael. _Knight Rider_ was just the-you know what, never mind. Jesus Christ. We gotta watch some more mindless reruns together.” Richie climbed off his bike, grabbing his helmet in one hand and slid his glasses up his nose with the other.

“Whatever. You coming, or are you going to smoke like a pretty boy behind the bleachers?”

Richie beamed, throwing one arm around Stan and his other with the helmet in it around Eddie as they walked into the building with Bill. “You called me _pretty_! I **knew** you’d miss this handsome face!” He smacked a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “It’s so good to be home.” They were halfway to their lockers when Richie placed his mouth near Eddie’s ear. “I _am_ gonna get you on that thing, Eds. Leg-eating alligators be damned.” Eddie took another quick glance at Richie’s jacket. Bev’s joke about the _Stepford Wives_ earlier suddenly didn’t seem so funny anymore.

⇜---------------------------------------------------------------------------------⇝

The first two periods that Eddie shared with Richie were maddening. Guys and girls alike stared at Richie as if he had risen from the dead, and Richie was either completely oblivious to the fact that all eyes were on him, or did know, and just didn’t care. Guys came up and asked questions about the bike, which Richie happily (but shortly) answered. Girls were smiling and giving sweet little waves, asking him about how fast it it went, and if they could have a ride sometime-which, oddly, Richie just blew off and declined. Richie not wanting attention was one thing in itself, but Richie denying attention from girls? Cute girls asking for rides? It seemed off. Of course, Richie really only expressed ‘interest’ in Eddie’s mom, but, still. Eddie found it strange, and admittedly, he also felt a bit jealous. Who were all these people crawling out of the woodwork to try to take Richie’s bike for a spin? Maybe that’s why Richie was denying them? He could see through their bullshit, like Eddie could. _And, holy shit, he almost could see through those goddamn pants._

It was on their way to their separate third period classes-Eddie had a free period and was going to study in the library, Richie had Chemistry-when Richie asked Eddie if he should get contacts.

Eddie scoffed. “Do they even make them in your strength, Magoo?”

Richie bit back a grin at the old nickname. “Hey, my eyes have gotten a lot better, Eds. Last appointment, the doc said I could switch to them if I wanted. What do you think? It’d be a lot easier to wear my helmet without the bows being crushed into my face.”

Of course it was about the motorcycle. Because, well. Of _course_. “I mean...that’s up to you, Richie.”

“Really? That’s it?”

“What’s it?”

“No horror stories about your cousin’s friend getting a contact lost in their brain or something?”

“Nope,” Eddie answered flatly. Sure, he had heard some wild things about contacts, and them floating to God only knows where in your eyeball, but he just wanted to get to the library and study in peace.

“Interesting,” Richie observed. “I’m surprised you don’t have about six pamphlets on the dangers of them stuffed in your pocket at all tim-” A girl brushed past them then, cutting the sentence short. She stopped at Richie’s side, and pressed a piece of paper in his palm with a wink before she continued on. Confused, Richie opened it and scanned it, a light pink color rising to his cheeks as his eyes darted over the paper. He crumpled it and tossed it in a trash can.

Eddie looked Richie over. “What the hell was that?”

“Disgusting. That’s what it was. See you at lunch, Eds.” Richie turned the corner to his class sharply, giving a wave to Eddie without looking. Eddie could only wonder what had been in the note.

⇜--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------⇝

Studying was not going to go like Eddie had hoped. It was not helpful in the slightest that the small group of tables were all by the windows, which conveniently overlooked the student parking lot, and no matter which table he would sit at, Richie’s motorcycle would be in plain view. He plopped himself in one of the ones in the middle, opening his Math book and notes to look over, trying not to let his mind wander off.

It wasn’t working. A motorcycle. A stupid motorcycle. Had Richie even _expressed_ wanting a motorcycle? Why the hell would Richie’s parents give Richie death on two wheels for his birthday? When Richie promised he could take care of a pet, his parents gave him a goldfish for a present once, and it lived for approximately forty-five minutes before croaking because he left the damn baggie it was in on top of the register for heat somehow. And that had been last year’s present, not when he was five. He knew Richie was interested in getting a car, but his parents wanted him to earn the money himself to get a used one. So why the hell would they spring for a bike? A bike with a motor that Richie would probably end up wrapping around a tree? And who the hell decided he needed a sexy jacket with sexier pants?

Eddie huffed, standing up and making his way to the hallway for a drink at the water fountain. He could of stuck his whole head in the cold running water if it would make the butterflies that had popped into his stomach go away. Life would be _so_ much easier if he A)wasn’t gayer than three Liberace’s stuck together and B)if Richie wasn’t his crush for the last five years running. He never really told the group he was gay, but never really hid it, either-he felt like it was an unspoken thing that no one gave a shit about. But the Richie thing he’d done his best to hide, even though he was pretty certain Bev knew. Stan definitely did. Maybe Mike and Bill knew. Okay, Ben, too. Shit. He was really goddamn terrible at this. He hoped Richie didn’t know, but it was always hard to tell with him-he was always a flirt, always making jokes.

He made his way back to the table and slunk down, sighing out the window at the bike.

_So who wants a ride first? What about you, cutie?_

Shit. He **did** want to ride the bike. He was still scared to death, no doubt about it-Richie wasn’t exactly the picture of grace. He’d seen him hit himself in the face trying to open a damn Pringles can before. But riding with Richie would mean sitting behind him. Pressed up against him. Wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight, swaying together around the curves in the road-

“Whatcha studying?” Stan’s voice made Eddie yelp, then slap his hand over his own mouth.

“Christ,” he whispered. “You scared the shit out of me!”

‘Sorry,” Stan said. He took a seat across from Eddie. “Oh, Math? Mind if I join? That test is supposed to be brutal today.”

“Be my guest,” Eddie motioned, sliding his notebook to Stan. Stan took out his own notes, sliding them to Eddie, both of them quietly humming and comparing who had written what and if it would be useful to them. Eddie kept finding himself distracted by the bike outside, shining in the sun.

Stan noticed. “That fucking thing, huh?”

“Hmm?”

“The bike. He’s gonna eat shit on it. I can’t believe his parents got him one.”

Eddie nodded. “He never mentioned wanting one, right? Or did I just blank that out of the list of things Tozier rambles on about wanting someday? I think I tuned it out when he wanted a giraffe three months ago.”

Stan snorted. “Oh, Jesus. Forgot about that one. Maybe-maybe his folks were out of ideas? I know he’s pretty close to reaching his goal for a car. Maybe a reward, or something. Maybe his uncle gave it to him instead? I don’t know. He’s going end up with a broken face before the month is over, though.”

“Why would he even accept the thing, if he’s so close to getting a car? I don’t understand.” Eddie drummed his pencil on the table, staring out into the afternoon.

Stan shrugged his shoulders, eyes back on Eddie’s notes. “People do dumb things to impress others.”

Eddie glanced at Stan. “You think he’s trying to impress people?”

“Eddie, Rich would rip his own leg off and beat himself over the head with it if it would impress you.”

Eddie frowned. “Wait, you think he’s trying to impress _me?_ ”

Stan looked up. “Uh. Yeah? Is it not obvious?”

“Why the hell would I be impressed by a motorcycle?”

“You seem to be impressed by his choice of pants.”

Eddie flushed red. “I am _not_ ,” he hissed quietly, looking around to make sure the other students there weren’t paying attention to them. “Why would Richie even want to impress me, anyway?”

Stan dropped his pen and laced his fingers together. “Are you really asking me this question right now?”

“Yes!”

“...you can’t be serious.”

Eddie’s face grew hot again. “What? Just tell me!”

Stan brought his hands to under his chin, resting on them. “Okay. Let’s try this. So, why _do_ people want to impress other people?”

“I don’t know. To...seem cool?”

“Alright, sure. Why else? Why do the football players always seem to suddenly be doing push ups and crunches when the cheerleaders come out to practice on the field?”

Eddie bit his lip in thought. “To look good?”

Stan smiled. “Mmm-hmm. And if they look good to one of them...maybe a cheerleader will notice and...” He un-tucked a hand from under his chin, and motioned with it, trying to get Eddie to catch on.

“...Cheer for him?”

Stan groaned. “You can’t be this oblivious.”

“Do you really think I know the ways of jocks and their quests to land a girlfrie-oh. Oh.” He blinked a couple of times at Stan. “Richie wants me to be his girlfriend?-Errrrr-boyfriend?”

Stan slow clapped teasingly, causing Eddie’s face to blush once more. This had to be a record, being this frustratingly embarrassed so many times in such a short time period.

“Come on, Stan. That’s not-Richie isn’t-He doesn’t like me like that.”

“Says who?”

“Uh, me. Richie isn’t...he’s not...” Eddie didn’t want to say it out loud, but he knew that Stan was thinking the same thing Eddie was. _Gay._

Stan sighed into his hands. “I took a tally, okay?”

A ghost of a smile flickered on Eddie’s face. Leave it to Stan to take a tally about something. “About what?”

“How many times do you think Richie kisses your cheek every month?”

Eddie moaned. “Stan. He kisses everyone!”

“Just tell me. How many do you think?”

Eddie’s eyebrows knitted together in thought for a few seconds. “I don’t-I don’t know. Twice? Three times?”

”Yeah, see-that’s what I figured, too. But one day, I got curious. So I took notes, beginning in October-”

“October?” Eddie’s voice seemed to crack, something it hadn't done since he was fourteen.

“Yes,” Stan continued, ignoring Eddie’s panicked expression. “I came to an average last month. He kisses me, Bill, and Ben about once a month. Twice if we’ve tickled his fancy somehow. Mike gets an average of three times a month, but I noticed it’s when Mike brings him food from the farm-either fresh or canned. Bev gets five, but that’s because she swipes everything he needs and wants for him, because she’s way smoother at it than he is. You, though. You? Get three a _day_ , every school day. Morning, lunch, end of the day. So that’s...fifteen times a week, and if we pretend there’s no holidays and if we just say there’s four weeks of school with five days a week, that’s sixty in a month. And I’m not counting weekends, obviously.”

Eddie just sat, stone faced. “Not proof of-”

“ _And_ I’m not even counting the Jolly Jingle. That was a record of eight times in just six hours.” Eddie swallowed hard. The Jolly Jingle was something the high school did the last day of school before the holiday break in December, letting kids sign up for fun activities and busing them there-things like bowling, skating, dancing, swimming, all that kind of stuff. Richie had been overly affectionate that day, kissing Eds cheek at just about every chance he got. He decided not tell Stan that Richie had kissed him again when Eddie gave him a lift home.

“Stan, it doesn't mean anything. It’s Richie. Richie does those sorts of things. He doesn’t want me to be his...cheerleader, or whatever.”

Stan gave a soft smile and continued on with the Math notes. “Alright. Whatever you say, Eddie.” It didn’t sound convincing at all.

Eddie bit his tongue.

Did Stan know something he didn’t?

⇜--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------⇝

The end of the day couldn’t come soon enough. Not only had Eddie been distracted by Stan’s words since leaving the library, but at lunch, Eddie noticed that something was definitely wrong with Richie. Richie was usually one to still joke around even when he felt like shit, but lunch was different. Richie only picked at his food, stayed relatively quiet and solemn, and seemed more clingy to Eddie than usual.(Which earned a burning, smug gaze from Stan that Eddie tried to ignore.) Richie may have been his unrequited crush, but he was his friend first. He wanted to find him, figure out what happened-did someone say something mean? Was it the note that girl gave him? Did she do this? Had somebody threatened him? A million thoughts ran through his head. When the final bell rang, he scrambled to get to his locker, blindly grabbing what he needed for the weekend. He felt himself picking up speed to get to Richie’s locker that was around the corner from his.

“Rich,” he yelled out, seeing him at his his locker. Richie turned slowly to Eddie as he jogged up, a small smile on his face. “What’s...up?” _Smooth, Eddie. Smooth._

“Hey, Eds. Just ready to get the fuck home.” Eddie watched as Richie pulled his helmet out and ran his fingers over the edge of it.

“So, uh. You don’t have a second one of those on you, huh?”

Richie’s eyes twinkled a bit. “I don’t. Normally, I’d call you a chickenshit for being cautious, but with a motorcycle, I don’t want you busting your cute little noggin open. Especially not with me operating it.”

Shit. Was that what this was all about? The teasing from earlier? Did they make Richie feel bad? 

“Well. If you scrounge up one...you know where I live.”

Richie’s face lit up. “That so?”

Eddie snickered. “What, you forgot where I live? You weren’t gone that long.”

“I _knew_ I’d get you on that thing,” he grinned, the two of them walking out of school to the lot. “My baby on my baby,” he winked.

“Gross,” Eddie lied, liking the sound of that. He pushed Richie away a little. “Just...no wheelies.”

“Dude, it’s hard enough to stick to two wheels on the pavement, you really think I’m gonna even try that shit?”

Eddie paled. “Not really helping me wanna ride with you, Rich.”

“No! I’m kidding! I’ll go slow! It’ll be fun! _Please?_ ”

Eddie sighed, looking at Richie’s exaggerated pouty lips. “ _Fine_. Seriously, though. A helmet. I am not going on that thing without a-”

Richie leaned and kissed him, slightly on the lips, right below his nose. Eddie had no idea if Richie overshot his cheek or if it was on purpose, but he didn’t make an apology. “I _promise_. You’ll get a helmet. I’ll bubble wrap you if I have to. Mrs. K will get her cutie back in pristine condition. I swear on it.” He hopped on his bike and stuck his helmet on his head as Eddie climbed into his car. He watched Richie start the engine and give a wave to him before peeling out of the lot, while Eddie rubbed his fingertips on the little spot above his lip, still wet from Richie.

Well, great. Now he _had_ to call Stan.

⇜-------------------------------------------------------------------⇝

"The little groove there is called the philtrum, you know," Stan offered over the phone to Eddie. "I was taught as a child that a baby in the womb has an angel with them that teaches us wisdom, but then shushes us before birth to keep a secret, giving us all the dent we have th-"

"Stan, that's great and all, but what does it **mean** ," Eddie mumbled out. He was sitting in his room, the phone cord twirled around his finger so tight it was going purple. "He kissed me. His bottom lip definitely hit my top."

"You didn't pay attention to _one_ thing I said to you earlier, did you?" 

Eddie swallowed quietly. "Do you know something? Has Richie said something about me?"

"...I plead the fifth?"

Eddie untangled his finger. "What? _What?_ What the fuck do you kn-"

"Eddie, do you really think I'd call...I don't know. Bill? And tell him _this_ conversation?"

"You wouldn't! ...Would you?"

Stan sighed. "No, and that's my point. Secrets are safe with me. That means I don't tell yours. But I also won't tell others _theirs._ "

"You _do_ know something! Stan, I swear to...wait. Hold on." Eddie could hear a faint sound in the distance. "Oh. Oh, _no_."

"Everything okay?" Stan sounded worried over the line.

"He's coming," Eddie mumbled out. "He's fucking coming to do this _today!_ " The sound of a motorcycle engine came closer.

Stan snickered. "Well, damn, what else happened today? What are you two, uh...doing?" Eddie could hear a soft chuckle.

"...I may have agreed to ride with him."

"Are you out of your _fucking_ mind?"

"He said he'd go slow and get me a helmet!"

"...are we still talking about the bike, or...?"

"Stan, I swear I will punch you right in th-shit! He's in the driveway!" Eddie had moved to his window, and watched Richie neatly park the bike. "What the fuck do I do?"

"Uh. Go with him, lover boy. _Duh._ "

Eddie nervously ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. Okay, okay, okay. I can do this, right? I can ride hi-ride _with!_ **With** him! I can-Stan, I'm fucking going to _murder_ you if you don't top laughing!"

Stan was practically snorting. "Just go, Eddie. Call me later, yeah? Tell me how smooth the _ride_ is."

"Stan, don't you _even_ -" click. Eddie grumbled into the dead line, hanging the phone on the cradle. He peered out the window again, Richie having cut the engine. _Okay, Ed. Grab the key to the door on the chain to wear on your neck-like Bev taught you when you don't need the car._ He grabbed it, slipping the chain over his head and tucking it into his shirt. _You're gonna go out there, play it cool and just go around the block, and be fine._ He made the way down his stairs and threw the door open before Richie could come in. "Hey, fuckhead, you trying to alert the whole neighborhood that your small dick has arrived?" _What the fuck? Why is everything out of our mouth a dumpster fire?_

"Well, lovely to see you too, my dear! And despite your filthy mouth, I come bearing gifts," Richie grinned, holding up a spare helmet. 

"Please tell me you didn't go out of your way and pay for that thing."

Richie glanced at it. "Nah, it was in the garage. I think dad bought it for the scooter he had a few years back. Figured it'd work for this." He held it out for Eddie to take. 

Eddie grabbed it. "So... where are we going?"

"My house okay?"

"...you live two streets over, Richie."

"So I'll take the scenic route." Richie smiled, watching Eddie sigh and buckle the helmet around his chin. "And I'll go slow. Two miles an hour. One mile an hour if I have to. Hell, we can just _walk_ it there, if you want."

Eddie slid up behind Richie on the bike. "Just...be careful. Okay? Don't be a show off, Trashmouth."

"You got it. Hold on tight, cutie."

⇜-------------------------------------------------------------------⇝

When they arrived at Richie's fifteen minutes later, Eddie thought the ride had been...well... _fun_. Richie had kept his promise and gone slow, didn't take any wild turns or do any stupid tricks, skipped going down the giant hill, and took the road that Mike lived on that Eddie always liked on account of all the trees and flowers that bloomed there. Nothing was really growing yet, but it had been a pretty sight nonetheless. He still had grabbed around Richie's waist as if his life depended on it (it kind of did, right?) and it probably wasn't necessary to squeeze as tight at the speed Richie was going, but Richie never complained, nor did he make fun of Eddie for doing so. Richie turned the engine off, and immediately hopped off, trying to stop Eddie. "Hold on! I gotta help you off."

"Rich, why would I need hel-" and then it hit him. Getting off the bike, his legs felt like Jello. Richie was already there, one arm snaked around Eddie, just under his armpits.

"Happened to me the first couple of times. If you're not used to riding, it can make your legs like noodles."

"Well, remind me to come ride your mom more often to build these babies up."

Richie practically guffawed. "Did _you_ just make a 'sex-with-your-mom joke' to **me**? Goddamn, Eds! What weird universe did I come back to?"

Eddie grinned. "Well, somebody had to do it while you were gone. Now help me to the house, Fonzie."

"A-ha, now, see, _that's_ a motorcycle guy. Not _Knight Rider_. I'll carry you if you want." 

"Your arms are like toothpicks, Rich. Just drag me to your room."

Richie raised an eyebrow. "My room? Someone's eager," he teased. Eddie looked away, hoping his ears weren't as red as his face was feeling. Richie helped Eddie inside, tossing their helmets onto the kitchen table and made the way down the hallway into his bedroom as Eddie's legs slowly tried to regain control. He flopped unceremoniously down on Richie's carpet once they entered, Richie diving into his own bed, kicking his shoes off. "Eddie, I have a very super serious request of you."

"Hmm?"

"Please, for the love of everything you hold dear, help me the _fuck_ out of these demon pants. Any longer in them, and they're going to have to cut off my legs."

Eddie chuckled from the floor. "How did you even manage to get in those? Butter?" He propped himself up, sitting on the floor with his upper half leaning against Richie's bed. Richie was already popping the button free and was starting to unzip them. Eddie decided Richie's comforter was a better spot to focus on.

"Never let me go shopping unsupervised again, Eds," he groaned. "God damn. My poor balls. You may never be able to bear my children, I'm afraid."

"Nice to hear you still sleep during Health class. Okay. How are we doing this? What if I pull from the feet, while you kinda shimmy out from the waist?"

'At this point you could set them on fire while they're still on me. I need to feel my toes again."

"Alright. Just...start sliding out of them, and I'll pull from the legs, okay? On three. One..." Richie hooked his thumbs into his waistband, and Eddie leaned back on the floor more, sliding his fingers around the ankles. "Two...three!" Eddie pulled as hard and fast as he could, falling back on his butt with a soft thump, pants in his hand. "Yes! Success, Riiiiiiiiicccchhh _ **why aren't you wearing any underwear?"**_ He had looked up at _such_ a wrong moment, Richie still flopped on his back, but his shirt hiked up, and, well-he had seen pretty much the whole enchilada from the angle on the floor. 

"Does it _look_ like I could have fit any in here with those things on?"

Eddie turned around, scrambling on the floor still, heading to Richie's dresser. "Jesus-put some fucking pants on! Put them _on!_ " He opened the bottom drawer, grabbing a pair of sweats and tossing them behind him, hoping they landed near Richie. "Christ, your window blinds are fucking open!" He stood up, shakily still, wobbling his way over and sliding Richie's blinds shut.

"For fuck's sake, Eds. It's no big deal. No one's looking in here. It's not like we haven't seen each other naked before."

"Yeah, when we went swimming- when we were _five!"_

"Yeah, and the equipment is still all there, Spaghetti. I mean, it's only bigger. At least on me," he cracked. 

Eddie rubbed his hands over his face. "My dick is just fine, thanks." He heard shuffling behind him and decided to sneak a peek-Richie had just snapped the waistband up on his hips. 

"Oh, s'at so? We gonna play a little 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours?' Your turn then, Eds." A devious smile plastered his face, taking in Eddie's flustered one. 

"I'm leaving," he muttered, grumbling. His legs felt a lot a better, still uneasy, but he felt like he he could make the short walk. 

"Oh, come on! Sit! I was just-I'm sorry, okay? I didn't even think it'd bother you. I go commando a lot more than you realize." 

Eddie reluctantly sat on Richie's bed, Richie flopping back down next to him. "Didn't need to know that, Tozier." 

"Besides, you gotta ride the bike while you can. I'm selling it." 

Eddie blinked in surprise. "You're _what?_ Why?" 

Richie shrugged. "I really didn't want it. It was my uncle's idea. He had one to fix up, told my parents about it, but I talked with them-I'm going to keep it for just a bit, but I really want a car. We live in Maine, Eds. Did you know snow is supposed to start back up in two weeks? They're calling for a second winter until Mother's Day. I want something with a roof. And a heater." He propped himself up on his side and looked at Eddie. "We can fog up some windows when you see my dick the next time," he grinned, earning a push from Eddie. 

"Har-har, Trashmouth." Eddie's thoughts of gripping Richie tight on a bike were suddenly being replaced with a rocking car in a lonely parking lot. _Really? We're thinking about this now? The fuck?_ "That why you were so bummed out today? You gonna miss the bike?" 

"Eh. More like actually miss being ignored at school. So many creepy vultures swooped in on me today about the thing. It was exhausting trying to keep track on who asked me what about the engine and model and all that shit. Didn't even recognize half of them. At least I got a few offers when I'm ready to sell it." 

"That reminds me. That note that girl gave you. What did that say? Why was it disgusting?" 

"Oh. That," Richie frowned. "That girl's a freshman. A _freshman!_ And she wanted me to, uh. Uh. Well. Um." Richie bit his lip in thought. "How can I put this. Service her...orally...while she rode my handlebars." Eddie barked out a laugh, tears coming to his eyes. "It's not that funny, Eds," Rich deadpanned, but his lip was twitching. 

"It's _golden,_ " Eddie said. "How would the mechanics of that work? She meant while you were riding? How is that...how would you even...?" 

"Gotta call Stan the man. I'm sure he'd have weird detailed illustrations on how that could be accomplished ready by Monday." They both stared at each other for a beat, then broke into hysterical fits of laughter, faces buried into the mattress. 

Richie came up for air, wiping a tear from his eyes. Eddie joined him, facing him, the two lying side by side. "I missed you, Eds." 

"That why you kissed me?" _Whoops._ Not really what Eddie wanted to say, but it slipped out just the same. 

"When did I kiss you?" 

"In the lot! Right near my lip!" 

Richie rolled his eyes. "I think I'd remember that, Edward." 

Eddie huffed. "You did!" 

"What does, 'near my lip' even mean?" 

"It means _near_ my lip, Rich. It was right-" he took his finger and touched the little divot above Richie's upper lip. "Here." Richie slithered his hand up and latched onto Eddie's wrist, kissing his finger. "I cannot **believe** I walked right into that one," Eddie marveled. 

Richie let go. "Yeah. You did. And I'm sorry. Again." 

"For what?" 

"I meant to go lower." 

Eddie stared wide-eyed as Richie blushed a bit, then leaned in and placed his lips on his. Richie let out a muffled, surprised gasp, then dragged Eddie closer to him, pressing harder into Eddie's mouth. Eddie's hands were _everywhere_ on Richie-his back, his hair, his neck, just above his ass. Richie's hands were doing the same, suddenly moving Eddie so he was beneath him, kissing and groaning into Eddie, the two writhing, their hands finding their way under each other's shirts, lost in their make-out session. 

Eddie pulled away, breathless as Richie nuzzled at his neck. "Rich-Richie, Richie stop. Stop. _Stop stop stop._ " 

Richie pulled himself up on his arms. "What? Baby, what is it? Everything okay? Too much?" 

"You, um. _Really_ missed me, I see," Eddie said, glancing downwards. Richie followed his gaze at the obvious bulge in the sweats Eddie tossed him. 

Richie flushed, burying his head in the pillow next to Eddie's head in embarrassment.. "You **had** to throw me sweatpants. Not jeans. Sweatpants." 

"Umm...jeans aren't really helping _me_ here, Rich." Richie shifted his crotch downwards, still on top of Eddie, earning a quiet but obscene moan from the boy underneath him. "So I can tell," Richie hotly whispered. He lifted his head out of the pillow and stared at Eddie. "Okay, no. You're right. We-we gotta cool down. Let's go for a ride somewhere." 

"Yes. I'm sure a vibrating motorcycle will _really_ help us in our time of need," Eddie snickered, face hot and blotchy. 

Richie bit back laughter. "Seriously. As much I'd love to continue this, my mom will be home in like-damn. What time is it?" He looked over at his bedside clock. "Jesus shit!-Ten minutes. We **cannot** be caught sucking each other off by my mom, Eds." 

Eddie's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry, we were gonna do _what_ now?" 

"Well, that's where I was going with it. No? Too soon?" He wiggled his eyebrows. 

"Just a little," Eddie quipped, giggling. 

"Okay, Shoes. Gotta grab my shoes. We can go to the quarry. Maybe... continue this there?" 

"If you even _think_ anything sexual is happening in public-" 

Richie finished the last loop on his laces and grabbed Eddies hand, dragging him out the door, grabbing their helmets off the table along the way. He kissed Eddie hard and deep before putting on his helmet. "Who wants a ride first," he he whispered, nuzzling Eddie's ear. "How about you, cutie?" Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes, but smiled. He took his spot behind Richie on the bike, snuggling close to him. 

"Hmm. _Feels_ like someone isn't too opposed to the idea of fucking in publ-" 

"Will you just _go,_ " Eddie hissed, hiding his face into Richie's back, blushing and grinning. Richie let out a chuckle before starting the motorcycle. 


End file.
